ye a little something hot; but
there'd be no time for the washing-up, an' I've ordained to leave the
place tidy."

One of the old women answered--

"There's nought to be pardoned, I'm sure. Never do I mind such a gay
set-off for the journey. For the gin-an'-water is a little addition
beyond experience. The vittles, no doubt, you begged up at the
Vicarage, sayin' you'd been a peck o' trouble to the family, but this
was going to be the last time."

"I did, I did," assented Mr. Trueman.

"But the gin-an'-water--how on airth you contrived it is a riddle!"

The old man rubbed his hands together and looked around with genuine
pride.

"There was old Miss Scantlebury," said another guest, a smock-frocked
gaffer of seventy, with a grizzled shock of hair. "You remember Miss
Scantlebury?"

"O' course, o' course."

"Well, she did it better 'n anybody I've heard tell of. When she fell
into redooced circumstances she sold the eight-day clock that was the
only thing o' value she had left. Brown o' Tregarrick made it, with
a very curious brass dial, whereon he carved a full-rigged ship that
rocked like a cradle, an' went down stern foremost when the hour
struck. 'Twas worth walking a mile to see. Brown's grandson bought
it off Miss Scantlebury for two guineas, he being proud of his
grandfather's skill; an' the old lady drove into Tregarrick Work'us
behind a pair o' greys wi' the proceeds. Over and above the carriage
hire, she'd enough left to adorn the horse wi' white favours an' give
the rider a crown, large as my lord. Aye, an' at the Work'us door she
said to the fellow, said she, 'All my life I've longed to ride in a
bridal chariot; an' though my only lover died of a decline when I was
scarce twenty-two, I've done it at last,' said she; 'an' now heaven
an' airth can't undo it!'"

A heavy silence followed this anecdote, and then one or two of the
women vented small disapproving coughs. The reason was the speaker's
loud mention of the Workhouse. A week, a day, a few-hours before, its
name might have been spoken in Mr. and Mrs. Trueman's presence. But
now they had entered its shadow; they were "going"--whether to the dim
vale of Avilion, or with chariot and horses of fire to heaven, let
nobody too curiously ask. If Mr. and Mrs. Trueman chose to speak
definitely, it was another matter.

Old Jan bore no malice, however, but answered, "That beats me, I own.
Yet we shall drive, though it be upon two wheels an' behind a single